Friday, February 14, 2014

Winter being what it is here in St. Louis right now my yard is covered with a blanket of white, no gardening to be done. I did have an inspiration to write a poem about what goes on in my yard year round.


I have this love/hate relationship
with squirrels. I hate that they
mess with my bird feeder
and yet I love seeing them
scamper across my yard
tails swishing as in the
chant my daughter taught me.
We use their name in derogatory
ways as in squirreling away
our treasures or how a person
might be acting squirrely or is
just plain squirrely. And now
I'm working on retrieving
the already shelled peanuts
in my stash, the ones that
slip down into the mass of
those still in their shells.
It hits me like an acorn from
a stately oak, I'm no better,
no worse than a squirrel myself.

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